The Spectator, Volumes 1, 2 and 3 by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele

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SELECTED BRITISH CLASSICKS - Vols. 1-2: The Spectator; Vol 3: Dr. Johnson's The Rambler ; Vol. 4: The World by Adam Fitz-Adam; Vol. 5: The Adventurer & Essays on Men and Manners ; Vol. 6: The Guardian and Temple's Sketches ; Vol. 7: The Connoisseur and Lyttelton's Dialogues of the Dead; Vol. 8: The Idler and Fitzosborne's letters and Dialogue on Oratory and Myrtle's The Lover

The Spectator in Four Volumes (Everyman's Library Volumes 1-4 [Nos.164-167])

Selections from the Spectator, Tatler, Guardian, and Freeholder: with a preliminary essay [volumes 1 and 2 only of a 3 volume set]

once, as he is seating himself in his Chair, speaks in the Thread of hisown Thoughts, 'She gave me a very obliging Glance, She Never look'd sowell in her Life as this Evening,' or the like Reflection, withoutRegard to any other Members of the Society; for in this Assembly they donot meet to talk to each other, but every Man claims the full Liberty oftalking to himself. Instead of Snuff-boxes and Canes, which are theusual Helps to Discourse with other young Fellows, these have each somePiece of Ribbon, a broken Fan, or an old Girdle, which they play withwhile they talk of the fair Person remember'd by each respective Token.According to the Representation of the Matter from my Letters, theCompany appear like so many Players rehearsing behind the Scenes; one issighing and lamenting his Destiny in beseeching Terms, another declaringhe will break his Chain, and another in dumb-Show, striving to expresshis Passion by his Gesture. It is very ordinary in the Assembly for oneof a sudden to rise and make a Discourse concerning his Passion ingeneral, and describe the Temper of his Mind in such a Manner, as thatthe whole Company shall join in the Description, and feel the Force ofit. In this Case, if any Man has declared the Violence of his Flame inmore pathetick Terms, he is made President for that Night, out ofrespect to his superior Passion.

We had some Years ago in this Town a Set of People who met and dressedlike Lovers, and were distinguished by the Name of the _Fringe-GloveClub_; but they were Persons of such moderate Intellects even beforethey were impaired by their Passion, that their Irregularities could notfurnish sufficient Variety of Folly to afford daily new Impertinencies;by which Means that Institution dropp'd. These Fellows could expresstheir Passion in nothing but their Dress; but the _Oxonians_ areFantastical now they are Lovers, in proportion to their Learning andUnderstanding before they became such. The Thoughts of the ancient Poetson this agreeable Phrenzy, are translated in honour of some modernBeauty; and _Chloris_ is won to Day, by the same Compliment that wasmade to _Lesbia_ a thousand Years ago. But as far as I can learn, thePatron of the Club is the renowned Don _Quixote_. The Adventures of thatgentle Knight are frequently mention'd in the Society, under the colourof Laughing at the Passion and themselves: But at the same Time, tho'they are sensible of the Extravagancies of that unhappy Warrior, they donot observe, that to turn all the Reading of the best and wisestWritings into Rhapsodies of Love, is a Phrenzy no less diverting thanthat of the aforesaid accomplish'd _Spaniard_. A Gentleman who, I hope,will continue his Correspondence, is lately admitted into theFraternity, and sent me the following Letter.

SIR,

'Since I find you take Notice of Clubs, I beg Leave to give you an Account of one in _Oxford_, which you have no where mention'd, and perhaps never heard of. We distinguish our selves by the Title of the _Amorous Club_, are all Votaries of _Cupid_, and Admirers of the Fair Sex. The Reason that we are so little known in the World, is the Secrecy which we are obliged to live under in the University. Our Constitution runs counter to that of the Place wherein we live: For in Love there are no Doctors, and we all profess so high Passion, that we admit of no Graduates in it. Our Presidentship is bestow'd according to the Dignity of Passion; our Number is unlimited; and our Statutes are like those of the Druids, recorded in our own Breasts only, and explained by the Majority of the Company. A Mistress, and a Poem in her Praise, will introduce any Candidate: Without the latter no one can be admitted; for he that is not in love enough to rhime, is unqualified for our Society. To speak disrespectfully of any Woman, is Expulsion from our gentle Society. As we are at present all of us Gown-men, instead of duelling when we are Rivals, we drink together the Health of our Mistress. The Manner of doing this sometimes indeed creates Debates; on such Occasions we have Recourse to the Rules of Love among the Antients.

'Naevia sex Cyathis, septem Justina bibatur.'

This Method of a Glass to every Letter of her Name, occasioned the other Night a Dispute of some Warmth. A young Student, who is in Love with Mrs. _Elizabeth Dimple_, was so unreasonable as to begin her Health under the Name of _Elizabetha_; which so exasperated the Club, that by common Consent we retrenched it to _Betty_. We look upon a Man as no Company, that does not sigh five times in a Quarter of an Hour; and look upon a Member as very absurd, that is so much himself as to make a direct Answer to a Question. In fine, the whole Assembly is made up of absent Men, that is, of such Persons as have lost their Locality, and whose Minds and Bodies never keep Company with one another. As I am an unfortunate Member of this distracted Society, you cannot expect a very regular Account of it; for which Reason, I hope you will pardon me that I so abruptly subscribe my self,

Sir,

Your most obedient,

humble Servant,

T. B.

I forgot to tell you, that _Albina_, who has six Votaries in this Club, is one of your Readers.'

R.

[Footnote 1: To this number of the Spectator was added in the originaldaily issue an announcement of six places at which were to be sold'Compleat Setts of this Paper for the Month of March.']

* * * * *

No. 31. Thursday, April 5, 1711. Addison.

'Sit mihi fas audita loqui!'

Vir.

Last Night, upon my going into a Coffee-House not far from the_Hay-Market_ Theatre, I diverted my self for above half an Hour withoverhearing the Discourse of one, who, by the Shabbiness of his Dress,the Extravagance of his Conceptions, and the Hurry of his Speech, Idiscovered to be of that Species who are generally distinguished by theTitle of Projectors. This Gentleman, for I found he was treated as suchby his Audience, was entertaining a whole Table of Listners with theProject of an Opera, which he told us had not cost him above two orthree Mornings in the Contrivance, and which he was ready to put inExecution, provided he might find his Account in it. He said, that hehad observed the great Trouble and Inconvenience which Ladies were at,in travelling up and down to the several Shows that are exhibited indifferent Quarters of the Town. The dancing Monkies are in one place;the Puppet-Show in another; the Opera in a third; not to mention theLions, that are almost a whole Day's Journey from the Politer Part ofthe Town. By this means People of Figure are forced to lose half theWinter after their coming to Town, before they have seen all the strangeSights about it. In order to remedy this great Inconvenience, ourProjector drew out of his Pocket the Scheme of an Opera, Entitled, _TheExpedition of Alexander the Great_; in which he had disposed of all theremarkable Shows about Town, among the Scenes and Decorations of hisPiece. The Thought, he confessed, was not originally his own, but thathe had taken the Hint of it from several Performances which he had seenupon our Stage: In one of which there was a Rary-Show; in another, aLadder-dance; and in others a Posture-man, a moving Picture, with manyCuriosities of the like nature.

This _Expedition of Alexander_ opens with his consulting the oracle at_Delphos_, in which the dumb Conjuror, who has been visited by so manyPersons of Quality of late Years, is to be introduced as telling him hisFortune; At the same time _Clench_ of _Barnet_ is represented in anotherCorner of the Temple, as ringing the Bells of _Delphos_, for joy of hisarrival. The Tent of _Darius_ is to be Peopled by the Ingenious Mrs._Salmon_, [1] where Alexander is to fall in Love with a Piece ofWax-Work, that represents the beautiful _Statira_. When Alexander comesinto that Country, in which _Quintus Curtius_ tells us the Dogs were soexceeding fierce that they would not loose their hold, tho' they werecut to pieces Limb by Limb, and that they would hang upon their Prey bytheir Teeth when they had nothing but a Mouth left, there is to be ascene of _Hockley in the Hole_, [2] in which is to be represented allthe Diversions of that Place, the Bull-baiting only excepted, whichcannot possibly be exhibited in the Theatre, by Reason of the Lowness ofthe Roof. The several Woods in _Asia_, which _Alexander_ must besupposed to pass through, will give the Audience a Sight of Monkiesdancing upon Ropes, with many other Pleasantries of that ludicrousSpecies. At the same time, if there chance to be any Strange Animals inTown, whether Birds or Beasts, they may be either let loose among theWoods, or driven across the Stage by some of the Country People of_Asia_. In the last great Battel, Pinkethman [3] is to personate King_Porus_ upon an _Elephant_, and is to be encountered by _Powell_ [4]representing _Alexander_ the Great upon a Dromedary, which neverthelessMr. _Powell_ is desired to call by the Name of _Bucephalus_. Upon theClose of this great decisive Battel, when the two Kings are thoroughlyreconciled, to shew the mutual Friendship and good Correspondence thatreigns between them, they both of them go together to a Puppet-Show, inwhich the ingenious Mr. _Powell, junior_ [5] may have an Opportunity ofdisplaying his whole Art of Machinery, for the Diversion of the twoMonarchs. Some at the Table urged that a Puppet-Show was not a suitableEntertainment for _Alexander_ the Great; and that it might be introducedmore properly, if we suppose the Conqueror touched upon that part of_India_ which is said to be inhabited by the Pigmies. But this Objectionwas looked upon as frivolous, and the Proposal immediately over-ruled.Our Projector further added, that after the Reconciliation of these twoKings they might invite one another to Dinner, and either of thementertain his Guest with the _German Artist_, Mr. _Pinkethman's_ HeathenGods, [6] or any of the like Diversions, which shall then chance to bein vogue.

This Project was receiv'd with very great Applause by the whole Table.Upon which the Undertaker told us, that he had not yet communicated tous above half his Design; for that _Alexander_ being a _Greek_, it washis Intention that the whole Opera should be acted in that Language,which was a Tongue he was sure would wonderfully please the Ladies,especially when it was a little raised and rounded by the _Ionick_Dialect; and could not but be [acceptable [8]] to the whole Audience,because there are fewer of them who understand _Greek_ than _Italian_.The only Difficulty that remained, was, how to get Performers, unless wecould persuade some Gentlemen of the Universities to learn to sing, inorder to qualify themselves for the Stage; but this Objection soonvanished, when the Projector informed us that the _Greeks_ were atpresent the only Musicians in the _Turkish_ Empire, and that it would bevery easy for our Factory at _Smyrna_ to furnish us every Year with aColony of Musicians, by the Opportunity of the _Turkey_ Fleet; besides,says he, if we want any single Voice for any lower Part in the Opera,_Lawrence_ can learn to speak _Greek_, as well as he does _Italian_, ina Fortnight's time.

The Projector having thus settled Matters, to the good liking of allthat heard him, he left his Seat at the Table, and planted himselfbefore the Fire, where I had unluckily taken my Stand for theConvenience of over-hearing what he said. Whether he had observed me tobe more attentive than ordinary, I cannot tell, but he had not stood byme above a Quarter of a Minute, but he turned short upon me on a sudden,and catching me by a Button of my Coat, attacked me very abruptly afterthe following manner.

Besides, Sir, I have heard of a very extraordinary Genius for Musick that lives in _Switzerland_, who has so strong a Spring in his Fingers, that he can make the Board of an Organ sound like a Drum, and if I could but procure a Subscription of about Ten Thousand Pound every Winter, I would undertake to fetch him over, and oblige him by Articles to set every thing that should be sung upon the _English_ Stage.

After this he looked full in my Face, expecting I would make an Answer,when by good Luck, a Gentleman that had entered the Coffee-house sincethe Projector applied himself to me, hearing him talk of his _Swiss_Compositions, cry'd out with a kind of Laugh,

Is our Musick then to receive further Improvements from _Switzerland!_[8]

This alarmed the Projector, who immediately let go my Button, and turnedabout to answer him. I took the Opportunity of the Diversion, whichseemed to be made in favour of me, and laying down my Penny upon theBar, retired with some Precipitation.

C.

[Footnote 1: An advertisement of Mrs. Salmon's wax-work in the 'Tatler'for Nov. 30, 1710, specifies among other attractions the TurkishSeraglio in wax-work, the Fatal Sisters that spin, reel, and cut thethread of man's life, 'an Old Woman flying from Time, who shakes hishead and hour-glass with sorrow at seeing age so unwilling to die.Nothing but life can exceed the motions of the heads, hands, eyes, &c.,of these figures, &c.']

[Footnote 2: Hockley-in-the-Hole, memorable for its Bear Garden, was onthe outskirt of the town, by Clerkenwell Green; with Mutton Lane on theEast and the fields on the West. By Town's End Lane (called Coppice Rowsince the levelling of the coppice-crowned knoll over which it ran)through Pickled-Egg Walk (now Crawford's Passage) one came toHockley-in-the-Hole or Hockley Hole, now Ray Street. The leveller hasbeen at work upon the eminences that surrounded it. In Hockley Hole,dealers in rags and old iron congregated. This gave it the name of RagStreet, euphonized into Ray Street since 1774. In the _Spectator's_time its Bear Garden, upon the site of which there are now metal works,was a famous resort of the lowest classes. 'You must go toHockley-in-the-Hole, child, to learn valour,' says Mr. Peachum to Filchin the _Beggar's Opera_.]

[Footnote 3: William Penkethman was a low comedian dear to the galleryat Drury Lane as 'Pinkey,' very popular also as a Booth Manager atBartholomew Fair. Though a sour critic described him as 'the Flower ofBartholomew Fair and the Idol of the Rabble; a Fellow that overdoeseverything, and spoils many a Part with his own Stuff,' the _Spectator_has in another paper given honourable fame to his skill as a comedian.Here there is but the whimsical suggestion of a favourite showman andlow comedian mounted on an elephant to play King Porus.]

[Footnote 4: George Powell, who in 1711 and 1712 appeared in suchcharacters as Falstaff, Lear, and Cortez in 'the Indian Emperor,' nowand then also played the part of the favourite stage hero, Alexander theGreat in Lee's _Rival Queens_. He was a good actor, spoilt byintemperance, who came on the stage sometimes warm with Nantz brandy,and courted his heroines so furiously that Sir John Vanbrugh said theywere almost in danger of being conquered on the spot. His last new partof any note was in 1713, Portius in Addison's Cato. He lived on for afew wretched years, lost to the public, but much sought by sheriff'sofficers.]

[Footnote 5: 'Powell junior' of the Puppet Show (see note [Footnote 2 ofNo. 14], p. 59, _ante_) was a more prosperous man than his namesake ofDrury Lane. In De Foe's 'Groans of Great Britain,' published in 1813, weread:

'I was the other Day at a Coffee-House when the following Advertisement was thrown in.--_At_ Punch's _Theatre in the Little Piazza, Covent-Garden, this present Evening will be performed an Entertainment, called,_ The History of Sir Richard Whittington, _shewing his Rise from a Scullion to be Lord-Mayor of London, with the Comical Humours of Old Madge, the jolly Chamber-Maid, and the Representation of the Sea, and the Court of Great Britain, concluding with the Court of Aldermen, and_ Whittington _Lord-Mayor, honoured with the Presence of K. Hen. VIII. and his Queen Anna Bullen, with other diverting Decorations proper to the Play, beginning at 6 o'clock_. Note, _No money to be returned after the Entertainment is begun._ Boxes, 2s. Pit, 1s. _Vivat Regina_.

On enquiring into the Matter, I find this has long been a noble Diversion of our Quality and Gentry; and that Mr. Powell, by Subscriptions and full Houses, has gathered such Wealth as is ten times sufficient to buy all the Poets in England; that he seldom goes out without his Chair, and thrives on this incredible Folly to that degree, that, were he a Freeman, he might hope that some future Puppet-Show might celebrate his being Lord Mayor, as he has done Sir R. Whittington.']

[Footnote 6:

'Mr. Penkethman's Wonderful Invention call'd the Pantheon: or, the Temple of the Heathen Gods. The Work of several Years, and great Expense, is now perfected; being a most surprising and magnificent Machine, consisting of 5 several curious Pictures, the Painting and contrivance whereof is beyond Expression Admirable. The Figures, which are above 100, and move their Heads, Legs, Arms, and Fingers, so exactly to what they perform, and setting one Foot before another, like living Creatures, that it justly deserves to be esteem'd the greatest Wonder of the Age. To be seen from 10 in the Morning till 10 at Night, in the Little Piazza, Covent Garden, in the same House where Punch's Opera is. Price 1s. 6d., 1s., and the lowest, 6d.'

This Advertisement was published in 46 and a few following numbers ofthe _Spectator_.]

The late Discourse concerning the Statutes of the _Ugly-Club_,having been so well received at _Oxford_, that, contrary to thestrict Rules of the Society, they have been so partial as to take my ownTestimonial, and admit me into that select Body; I could not restrainthe Vanity of publishing to the World the Honour which is done me. It isno small Satisfaction, that I have given Occasion for the President'sshewing both his Invention and Reading to such Advantage as myCorrespondent reports he did: But it is not to be doubted there weremany very proper Hums and Pauses in his Harangue, which lose theirUgliness in the Narration, and which my Correspondent (begging hisPardon) has no very good Talent at representing. I very much approve ofthe Contempt the Society has of Beauty: Nothing ought to be laudable ina Man, in which his Will is not concerned; therefore our Society canfollow Nature, and where she has thought fit, as it were, to mockherself, we can do so too, and be merry upon the Occasion.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'Your making publick the late Trouble I gave you, you will find to have been the Occasion of this: Who should I meet at the Coffee-house Door t'other Night, but my old Friend Mr. President? I saw somewhat had pleased him; and as soon as he had cast his Eye upon me,

"Oho, Doctor, rare News from _London_, (says he); the SPECTATOR has made honourable Mention of the Club (Man) and published to the World his sincere Desire to be a Member, with a recommendatory Description of his Phiz: And tho' our Constitution has made no particular Provision for short Faces, yet, his being an extraordinary Case, I believe we shall find an Hole for him to creep in at; for I assure you he is not against the Canon; and if his Sides are as compact as his Joles, he need not disguise himself to make one of us."

I presently called for the Paper to see how you looked in Print; and after we had regaled our selves a while upon the pleasant Image of our Proselite, Mr. President told me I should be his Stranger at the next Night's Club: Where we were no sooner come, and Pipes brought, but Mr. President began an Harangue upon your Introduction to my Epistle; setting forth with no less Volubility of Speech than Strength of Reason, "That a Speculation of this Nature was what had been long and much wanted; and that he doubted not but it would be of inestimable Value to the Publick, in reconciling even of Bodies and Souls; in composing and quieting the Minds of Men under all corporal Redundancies, Deficiencies, and Irregularities whatsoever; and making every one sit down content in his own Carcase, though it were not perhaps so mathematically put together as he could wish." And again, "How that for want of a due Consideration of what you first advance, _viz._ that our Faces are not of our own choosing, People had been transported beyond all good Breeding, and hurried themselves into unaccountable and fatal Extravagancies: As, how many impartial Looking-Glasses had been censured and calumniated, nay, and sometimes shivered into ten thousand Splinters, only for a fair Representation of the Truth? How many Headstrings and Garters had been made accessory, and actually forfeited, only because Folks must needs quarrel with their own Shadows? And who (continues he) but is deeply sensible, that one great Source of the Uneasiness and Misery of human Life, especially amongst those of Distinction, arises from nothing in the World else, but too severe a Contemplation of an indefeasible Contexture of our external Parts, or certain natural and invincible Disposition to be fat or lean? When a little more of Mr. SPECTATOR'S Philosophy would take off all this; and in the mean time let them observe, that there's not one of their Grievances of this Sort, but perhaps in some Ages of the World has been highly in vogue; and may be so again, nay, in some Country or other ten to one is so at this Day. My Lady _Ample_ is the most miserable Woman in the World, purely of her own making: She even grudges her self Meat and Drink, for fear she should thrive by them; and is constantly crying out, In a Quarter of a Year more I shall be quite out of all manner of Shape! Now [the[1]] Lady's Misfortune seems to be only this, that she is planted in a wrong Soil; for, go but t'other Side of the Water, it's a Jest at _Harlem_ to talk of a Shape under eighteen Stone. These wise Traders regulate their Beauties as they do their Butter, by the Pound; and Miss _Cross_, when she first arrived in the _Low-Countries_, was not computed to be so handsom as Madam _Van Brisket_ by near half a Tun. On the other hand, there's 'Squire _Lath_, a proper Gentleman of Fifteen hundred Pound _per Annum_, as well as of an unblameable Life and Conversation; yet would not I be the Esquire for half his Estate; for if it was as much more, he'd freely pare with it all for a pair of Legs to his Mind: Whereas in the Reign of our first King _Edward_ of glorious Memory, nothing more modish than a Brace of your fine taper Supporters; and his Majesty without an Inch of Calf, managed Affairs in Peace and War as laudably as the bravest and most politick of his Ancestors; and was as terrible to his Neighbours under the Royal Name of _Long-shanks_, as _Coeur de Lion_ to the _Saracens_ before him. If we look farther back into History we shall find, that _Alexander_ the Great wore his Head a little over the left Shoulder; and then not a Soul stirred out 'till he had adjusted his Neck-bone; the whole Nobility addressed the Prince and each other obliquely, and all Matters of Importance were concerted and carried on in the _Macedonian_ Court with their Polls on one Side. For about the first Century nothing made more Noise in the World than _Roman_ Noses, and then not a Word of them till they revived again in Eighty eight. [2] Nor is it so very long since _Richard_ the Third set up half the Backs of the Nation; and high Shoulders, as well as high Noses, were the Top of the Fashion. But to come to our selves, Gentlemen, tho' I find by my quinquennial Observations that we shall never get Ladies enough to make a Party in our own Country, yet might we meet with better Success among some of our Allies. And what think you if our Board sate for a _Dutch_ Piece? Truly I am of Opinion, that as odd as we appear in Flesh and Blood, we should be no such strange Things in Metzo-Tinto. But this Project may rest 'till our Number is compleat; and this being our Election Night, give me leave to propose Mr. SPECTATOR: You see his Inclinations, and perhaps we may not have his Fellow."

I found most of them (as it is usual in all such Cases) were prepared; but one of the Seniors (whom by the by Mr. President had taken all this Pains to bring over) sate still, and cocking his Chin, which seemed only to be levelled at his Nose, very gravely declared,

"That in case he had had sufficient Knowledge of you, no Man should have been more willing to have served you; but that he, for his part, had always had regard to his own Conscience, as well as other Peoples Merit; and he did not know but that you might be a handsome Fellow; for as for your own Certificate, it was every Body's Business to speak for themselves."

Mr. President immediately retorted,

"A handsome Fellow! why he is a Wit (Sir) and you know the Proverb;"

and to ease the old Gentleman of his Scruples, cried,

"That for Matter of Merit it was all one, you might wear a Mask."

This threw him into a Pause, and he looked, desirous of three Days to consider on it; but Mr. President improved the Thought, and followed him up with an old Story,

"That Wits were privileged to wear what Masks they pleased in all Ages; and that a Vizard had been the constant Crown of their Labours, which was generally presented them by the Hand of some Satyr, and sometimes of _Apollo_ himself:"

For the Truth of which he appealed to the Frontispiece of several Books, and particularly to the _English Juvenal_, [3] to which he referred him; and only added,

"That such Authors were the _Larvati_ [4] or _Larva donati_ of the Ancients."

This cleared up all, and in the Conclusion you were chose Probationer; and Mr. President put round your Health as such, protesting,

"That tho' indeed he talked of a Vizard, he did not believe all the while you had any more Occasion for it than the Cat-a-mountain;"

so that all you have to do now is to pay your Fees, which here are very reasonable if you are not imposed upon; and you may stile your self _Informis Societatis Socius_: Which I am desired to acquaint you with; and upon the same I beg you to accept of the Congratulation of,

SIR,

Your oblig'd humble Servant,

R. A. C.

Oxford March 21.

[Footnote 1: this]

[Footnote 2: At the coming of William III.]

[Footnote 3: The third edition of Dryden's Satires of Juvenal andPersius, published in 1702, was the first 'adorn'd with Sculptures.' TheFrontispiece represents at full length Juvenal receiving a mask of Satyrfrom Apollo's hand, and hovered over by a Cupid who will bind the Headto its Vizard with a Laurel Crown.]

[Footnote 4: Larvati were bewitched persons; from Larva, of which theoriginal meaning is a ghost or spectre; the derived meanings are, a Maskand a Skeleton.]

A friend of mine has two Daughters, whom I will call _Laetitia_ and_Daphne_; The Former is one of the Greatest Beauties of the Age in whichshe lives, the Latter no way remarkable for any Charms in her Person.Upon this one Circumstance of their Outward Form, the Good and Ill oftheir Life seems to turn. _Laetitia_ has not, from her very Childhood,heard any thing else but Commendations of her Features and Complexion,by which means she is no other than Nature made her, a very beautifulOutside. The Consciousness of her Charms has rendered her insupportablyVain and Insolent, towards all who have to do with her. _Daphne_, whowas almost Twenty before one civil Thing had ever been said to her,found her self obliged to acquire some Accomplishments to make up forthe want of those Attractions which she saw in her Sister. Poor _Daphne_was seldom submitted to in a Debate wherein she was concerned; herDiscourse had nothing to recommend it but the good Sense of it, and shewas always under a Necessity to have very well considered what she wasto say before she uttered it; while _Laetitia_ was listened to withPartiality, and Approbation sate in the Countenances of those sheconversed with, before she communicated what she had to say. TheseCauses have produced suitable Effects, and _Laetitia_ is as insipid aCompanion, as _Daphne_ is an agreeable one. _Laetitia_, confident ofFavour, has studied no Arts to please; _Daphne_, despairing of anyInclination towards her Person, has depended only on her Merit._Laetitia_ has always something in her Air that is sullen, grave anddisconsolate. _Daphne_ has a Countenance that appears chearful, open andunconcerned. A young Gentleman saw _Laetitia_ this Winter at a Play, andbecame her Captive. His Fortune was such, that he wanted very littleIntroduction to speak his Sentiments to her Father. The Lover wasadmitted with the utmost Freedom into the Family, where a constrainedBehaviour, severe Looks, and distant Civilities, were the highestFavours he could obtain of _Laetitia_; while _Daphne_ used him with thegood Humour, Familiarity, and Innocence of a Sister: Insomuch that hewould often say to her, _Dear_ Daphne; _wert thou but as Handsome asLaetitia!_--She received such Language with that ingenuous and pleasingMirth, which is natural to a Woman without Design. He still Sighed invain for _Laetitia_, but found certain Relief in the agreeableConversation of _Daphne_. At length, heartily tired with the haughtyImpertinence of _Laetitia_, and charmed with repeated Instances of goodHumour he had observed in _Daphne_, he one Day told the latter, that hehad something to say to her he hoped she would be pleased with.--_FaithDaphne,_ continued he, _I am in Love with thee, and despise thy Sistersincerely_. The Manner of his declaring himself gave his Mistressoccasion for a very hearty Laughter.--_Nay,_ says he, _I knew you wouldLaugh at me, but I'll ask your Father._ He did so; the Father receivedhis Intelligence with no less Joy than Surprize, and was very glad hehad now no Care left but for his _Beauty_, which he thought he couldcarry to Market at his Leisure. I do not know any thing that has pleasedme so much a great while, as this Conquest of my Friend _Daphne's_. Allher Acquaintance congratulate her upon her Chance. Medley, and laugh atthat premeditating Murderer her Sister. As it is an Argument of a lightMind, to think the worse of our selves for the Imperfections of ourPersons, it is equally below us to value our selves upon the Advantagesof them. The Female World seem to be almost incorrigibly gone astray inthis Particular; for which Reason, I shall recommend the followingExtract out of a Friend's Letter to the Profess'd Beauties, who are aPeople almost as unsufferable as the Profess'd Wits.

Monsieur St. _Evremont_ [1] has concluded one of his Essays, with affirming that the last Sighs of a Handsome Woman are not so much for the loss of her Life, as of her Beauty. Perhaps this Raillery is pursued too far, yet it is turn'd upon a very obvious Remark, that Woman's strongest Passion is for her own Beauty, and that she values it as her Favourite Distinction. From hence it is that all Arts, which pretend to improve or preserve it, meet with so general a Reception among the Sex. To say nothing of many False Helps and Contraband Wares of Beauty, which are daily vended in this great Mart, there is not a Maiden-Gentlewoman, of a good Family in any County of _South-Britain_, who has not heard of the Virtues of _May_-Dew, or is unfurnished with some Receipt or other in Favour of her Complexion; and I have known a Physician of Learning and Sense, after Eight Years Study in the University, and a Course of Travels into most Countries of _Europe_, owe the first raising of his Fortunes to a Cosmetick Wash.

This has given me Occasion to consider how so Universal a Disposition in Womankind, which springs from a laudable Motive, the Desire of Pleasing, and proceeds upon an Opinion, not altogether groundless, that Nature may be helped by Art, may be turn'd to their Advantage. And, methinks, it would be an acceptable Service to take them out of the Hands of Quacks and Pretenders, and to prevent their imposing upon themselves, by discovering to them the true Secret and Art of improving Beauty.

In order to this, before I touch upon it directly, it will be necessary to lay down a few Preliminary Maxims, _viz_.

That no Woman can be Handsome by the Force of Features alone, any more than she can be Witty only by the Help of Speech.

That Pride destroys all Symmetry and Grace, and Affectation is a more terrible Enemy to fine Faces than the Small-Pox.

That no Woman is capable of being Beautiful, who is not incapable of being False.

And, That what would be Odious in a Friend, is Deformity in a Mistress.

From these few Principles, thus laid down, it will be easie to prove, that the true Art of assisting Beauty consists in Embellishing the whole Person by the proper Ornaments of virtuous and commendable Qualities. By this Help alone it is that those who are the Favourite Work of Nature, or, as Mr. _Dryden_ expresses it, the Porcelain Clay of human Kind [2], become animated, and are in a Capacity of exerting their Charms: And those who seem to have been neglected by her, like Models wrought in haste, are capable, in a great measure, of finishing what She has left imperfect.

It is, methinks, a low and degrading Idea of that Sex, which was created to refine the Joys, and soften the Cares of Humanity, by the most agreeable Participation, to consider them meerly as Objects of Sight. This is abridging them of their natural Extent of Power, to put them upon a Level with their Pictures at _Kneller's_. How much nobler is the Contemplation of Beauty heighten'd by Virtue, and commanding our Esteem and Love, while it draws our Observation? How faint and spiritless are the Charms of a Coquet, when compar'd with the real Loveliness of _Sophronia's_ Innocence, Piety, good Humour and Truth; Virtues which add a new Softness to her Sex, and even beautify her Beauty! That Agreeableness, which must otherwise have appeared no longer in the modest Virgin, is now preserv'd in the tender Mother, the prudent Friend, and the faithful Wife. Colours, artfully spread upon Canvas, may entertain the Eye, but not affect the Heart; and she, who takes no care to add to the natural Graces of her Person any excelling Qualities, may be allowed still to amuse, as a Picture, but not to triumph as a Beauty.

When _Adam_ is introduced by _Milton_ describing _Eve_ in Paradise, and relating to the Angel the Impressions he felt upon seeing her at her first Creation, he does not represent her like a _Grecian Venus_ by her Shape or Features, but by the Lustre of her Mind which shone in them, and gave them their Power of charming.

_Grace was in all her Steps, Heaven in her Eye, In all her Gestures Dignity and Love._

Without this irradiating Power the proudest Fair One ought to know, whatever her Glass may tell her to the contrary, that her most perfect Features are Uninform'd and Dead.

I cannot better close this Moral, than by a short Epitaph written by _Ben Johnson_, with a Spirit which nothing could inspire but such an Object as I have been describing.

Underneath this Stone doth lie As much Virtue as cou'd die, Which when alive did Vigour give To as much Beauty as cou'd live. [3]

I am, Sir, Your most humble Servant, R. B.

R.

[Footnote 1: Charles de St. Denis, Sieur de St. Evremond, died in 1703,aged 95, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. His military anddiplomatic career in France was closed in 1661, when his condemnationsof Mazarin, although the Cardinal was then dead, obliged him to fly fromthe wrath of the French Court to Holland and afterwards to England,where Charles II granted him a pension of L300 a-year. At Charles'sdeath the pension lapsed, and St. Evremond declined the post of cabinetsecretary to James II. After the Revolution he had William III forfriend, and when, at last, he was invited back, in his old age, toFrance, he chose to stay and die among his English friends. In a secondvolume of 'Miscellany Essays by Monsieur de St. Evremont,' done intoEnglish by Mr. Brown (1694), an Essay 'Of the Pleasure that Women takein their Beauty' ends (p. 135) with the thought quoted by Steele.]

Ay; There look like the Workmanship of Heav'n: This is the Porcelain Clay of Human Kind.]

[Footnote 3: The lines are in the Epitaph 'on Elizabeth L.H.'

'One name was Elizabeth, The other, let it sleep in death.'

But Steele, quoting from memory, altered the words to his purpose. BenJohnson's lines were:

'Underneath this stone doth lie, As much Beauty as could die, Which in Life did Harbour give To more Virture than doth live.']

* * * * *

No. 34. Monday, April 9, 1711 Addison.

'... parcit Cognatis maculis similis fera ...'

Juv.

The Club of which I am a Member, is very luckily composed of suchpersons as are engaged in different Ways of Life, and disputed as itwere out of the most conspicuous Classes of Mankind: By this Means I amfurnished with the greatest Variety of Hints and Materials, and knowevery thing that passes in the different Quarters and Divisions, notonly of this great City, but of the whole Kingdom. My Readers too havethe Satisfaction to find, that there is no Rank or Degree among them whohave not their Representative in this Club, and that there is alwayssome Body present who will take Care of their respective Interests, thatnothing may be written or published to the Prejudice or Infringement oftheir just Rights and Privileges.

I last Night sat very late in company with this select Body of Friends,who entertain'd me with several Remarks which they and others had madeupon these my Speculations, as also with the various Success which theyhad met with among their several Ranks and Degrees of Readers. WILL.HONEYCOMB told me, in the softest Manner he could, That there were someLadies (but for your Comfort, says WILL., they are not those of the mostWit) that were offended at the Liberties I had taken with the Opera andthe Puppet-Show: That some of them were likewise very much surpriz'd,that I should think such serious Points as the Dress and Equipage ofPersons of Quality, proper Subjects for Raillery.

He was going on, when Sir ANDREW FREEPORT took him up short, and toldhim, That the Papers he hinted at had done great Good in the City, andthat all their Wives and Daughters were the better for them: And furtheradded, That the whole City thought themselves very much obliged to mefor declaring my generous Intentions to scourge Vice and Folly as theyappear in a Multitude, without condescending to be a Publisher ofparticular Intrigues and Cuckoldoms. In short, says Sir ANDREW, if youavoid that foolish beaten Road of falling upon Aldermen and Citizens,and employ your Pen upon the Vanity and Luxury of Courts, your Papermust needs be of general Use.

Upon this my Friend the TEMPLAR told Sir ANDREW, That he wondered tohear a Man of his Sense talk after that Manner; that the City had alwaysbeen the Province for Satyr; and that the Wits of King _Charles's_ Timejested upon nothing else during his whole Reign. He then shewed, by theExamples of _Horace, Juvenal, Boileau_, and the best Writers of everyAge, that the Follies of the Stage and Court had never been accountedtoo sacred for Ridicule, how great so-ever the Persons might be thatpatronized them. But after all, says he, I think your Raillery has madetoo great an Excursion, in attacking several Persons of the Inns ofCourt; and I do not believe you can shew me any Precedent for yourBehaviour in that Particular.

My good Friend Sir ROGER DE COVERL[E]Y, who had said nothing all thiswhile, began his Speech with a Pish! and told us. That he wondered tosee so many Men of Sense so very serious upon Fooleries. Let our goodFriend, says he, attack every one that deserves it: I would only adviseyou, Mr. SPECTATOR, applying himself to me, to take Care how you meddlewith Country Squires: They are the Ornaments of the _English_ Nation;Men of good Heads and sound Bodies! and let me tell you, some of themtake it ill of you that you mention Fox-hunters with so little Respect.

Captain SENTRY spoke very sparingly on this Occasion. What he said wasonly to commend my Prudence in not touching upon the Army, and advisedme to continue to act discreetly in that Point.

By this Time I found every subject of my Speculations was taken awayfrom me by one or other of the Club; and began to think my self in theCondition of the good Man that had one Wife who took a Dislike to hisgrey Hairs, and another to his black, till by their picking out whateach of them had an Aversion to, they left his Head altogether bald andnaked.

While I was thus musing with my self, my worthy Friend the Clergy-man,who, very luckily for me, was at the Club that Night, undertook myCause. He told us, That he wondered any Order of Persons should thinkthemselves too considerable to be advis'd: That it was not Quality, butInnocence which exempted Men from Reproof; That Vice and Folly ought tobe attacked where-ever they could be met with, and especially when theywere placed in high and conspicuous Stations of Life. He further added,That my Paper would only serve to aggravate the Pains of Poverty, if itchiefly expos'd those who are already depressed, and in some measureturn'd into Ridicule, by the Meanness of their Conditions andCircumstances. He afterwards proceeded to take Notice of the great Usethis Paper might be of to the Publick, by reprehending those Vices whichare too trivial for the Chastisement of the Law, and too fantastical forthe Cognizance of the Pulpit. He then advised me to prosecute myUndertaking with Chearfulness; and assured me, that whoever might bedispleased with me, I should be approved by all those whose Praises doHonour to the Persons on whom they are bestowed.

The whole Club pays a particular Deference to the Discourse of thisGentleman, and are drawn into what he says as much by the candid andingenuous Manner with which he delivers himself, as by the Strength ofArgument and Force of Reason which he makes use of. WILL. HONEYCOMBimmediately agreed, that what he had said was right; and that for hisPart, he would not insist upon the Quarter which he had demanded for theLadies. Sir ANDREW gave up the City with the same Frankness. The TEMPLARwould not stand out; and was followed by Sir ROGER and the CAPTAIN: Whoall agreed that I should be at Liberty to carry the War into whatQuarter I pleased; provided I continued to combat with Criminals in aBody, and to assault the Vice without hurting the Person.

This Debate, which was held for the Good of Mankind, put me in Mind ofthat which the _Roman_ Triumvirate were formerly engaged in, for theirDestruction. Every Man at first stood hard for his Friend, till theyfound that by this Means they should spoil their Proscription: And atlength, making a Sacrifice of all their Acquaintance and Relations,furnished out a very decent Execution.

Having thus taken my Resolution to march on boldly in the Cause ofVirtue and good Sense, and to annoy their Adversaries in whatever Degreeor Rank of Men they may be found: I shall be deaf for the future to allthe Remonstrances that shall be made to me on this Account. If _Punch_grow extravagant, I shall reprimand him very freely: If the Stagebecomes a Nursery of Folly and Impertinence, I shall not be afraid toanimadvert upon it. In short, If I meet with any thing in City, Court,or Country, that shocks Modesty or good Manners, I shall use my utmostEndeavours to make an Example of it. I must however intreat everyparticular Person, who does me the Honour to be a Reader of this Paper,never to think himself, or any one of his Friends or Enemies, aimed atin what is said: For I promise him, never to draw a faulty Characterwhich does not fit at least a Thousand People; or to publish a singlePaper, that is not written in the Spirit of Benevolence and with a Loveto Mankind.

C.

* * * * *

No. 35. Tuesday, April 10, 1711. Addison.

'Risu inepto res ineptior milla est.'

Mart.

Among all kinds of Writing, there is none in which Authors are more aptto miscarry than in Works of Humour, as there is none in which they aremore ambitious to excell. It is not an Imagination that teems withMonsters, an Head that is filled with extravagant Conceptions, which iscapable of furnishing the World with Diversions of this nature; and yetif we look into the Productions of several Writers, who set up for Menof Humour, what wild irregular Fancies, what unnatural Distortions ofThought, do we meet with? If they speak Nonsense, they believe they aretalking Humour; and when they have drawn together a Scheme of absurd,inconsistent Ideas, they are not able to read it over to themselveswithout laughing. These poor Gentlemen endeavour to gain themselves theReputation of Wits and Humourists, by such monstrous Conceits as almostqualify them for _Bedlam;_ not considering that Humour should always lyeunder the Check of Reason, and that it requires the Direction of thenicest Judgment, by so much the more as it indulges it self in the mostboundless Freedoms. There is a kind of Nature that is to be observed inthis sort of Compositions, as well as in all other, and a certainRegularity of Thought [which [1]] must discover the Writer to be a Manof Sense, at the same time that he appears altogether given up toCaprice: For my part, when I read the delirious Mirth of an unskilfulAuthor, I cannot be so barbarous as to divert my self with it, but amrather apt to pity the Man, than to laugh at any thing he writes.

The deceased Mr. _Shadwell_, who had himself a great deal of the Talent,which I am treating of, represents an empty Rake, in one of his Plays,as very much surprized to hear one say that breaking of Windows was notHumour;[2] and I question not but several _English_ Readers will be asmuch startled to hear me affirm, that many of those raving incoherentPieces, which are often spread among us, under odd Chimerical Titles,are rather the Offsprings of a Distempered Brain, than Works of Humour.

It is indeed much easier to describe what is not Humour, than what is;and very difficult to define it otherwise than as _Cowley_ has done Wit,by Negatives. Were I to give my own Notions of it, I would deliver themafter _Plato's_ manner, in a kind of Allegory, and by supposing Humourto be a Person, deduce to him all his Qualifications, according to thefollowing Genealogy. TRUTH was the Founder of the Family, and the Fatherof GOOD SENSE. GOOD SENSE was the Father of WIT, who married a Lady of aCollateral Line called MIRTH, by whom he had Issue HUMOUR. HUMOURtherefore being the youngest of this Illustrious Family, and descendedfrom Parents of such different Dispositions, is very various and unequalin his Temper; sometimes you see him putting on grave Looks and a solemnHabit, sometimes airy in his Behaviour and fantastick in his Dress:Insomuch that at different times he appears as serious as a Judge, andas jocular as a _Merry-Andrew_. But as he has a great deal of the Motherin his Constitution, whatever Mood he is in, he never fails to make hisCompany laugh.

But since there [is an Impostor [3]] abroad, who [takes upon him [4]]the Name of this young Gentleman, and would willingly pass for him inthe World; to the end that well-meaning Persons may not be imposed uponby [Cheats [5]], I would desire my Readers, when they meet with [thisPretender [6]], to look into his Parentage, and to examine him strictly,whether or no he be remotely allied to TRUTH, and lineally descendedfrom GOOD SENSE; if not, they may conclude him a Counterfeit. They maylikewise distinguish him by a loud and excessive Laughter, in which heseldom gets his Company to join with him. For, as TRUE HUMOUR generallylooks serious, whilst every Body laughs [about him [7]]; FALSE HUMOUR isalways laughing, whilst every Body about him looks serious. I shall onlyadd, if he has not in him a Mixture of both Parents, that is, if hewould pass for the Offspring of WIT without MIRTH, or MIRTH without WIT,you may conclude him to be altogether Spurious, and a Cheat.

The Impostor, of whom I am speaking, descends Originally from FALSEHOOD,who was the Mother of NONSENSE, who was brought to Bed of a Son calledFRENZY, who Married one of the Daughters of FOLLY, commonly known by theName of LAUGHTER, on whom he begot that Monstrous Infant of which I havebeen here speaking. I shall set down at length the Genealogical Table ofFALSE HUMOUR, and, at the same time, place under it the Genealogy ofTRUE HUMOUR, that the Reader may at one View behold their differentPedigrees and Relations.

I might extend the Allegory, by mentioning several of the Children ofFALSE HUMOUR, who are more in Number than the Sands of the Sea, andmight in particular enumerate the many Sons and Daughters which he hasbegot in this Island. But as this would be a very invidious Task, Ishall only observe in general, that FALSE HUMOUR differs from the TRUE,as a Monkey does from a Man.

_First_ of all, He is exceedingly given to little Apish Tricks and Buffooneries.

_Secondly_, He so much delights in Mimickry, that it is all one to him whether he exposes by it Vice and Folly, Luxury and Avarice; or, on the contrary, Virtue and Wisdom, Pain and Poverty.

_Thirdly_, He is wonderfully unlucky, insomuch that he will bite the Hand that feeds him, and endeavour to ridicule both Friends and Foes indifferently. For having but small Talents, he must be merry where he can, not where he _should_.

_Fourthly_, Being entirely void of Reason, he pursues no Point either of Morality or Instruction, but is ludicrous only for the sake of being so.

_Fifthly_, Being incapable of any thing but Mock-Representations, his Ridicule is always Personal, and aimed at the Vicious Man, or the Writer; not at the Vice, or at the Writing.

I have here only pointed at the whole Species of False Humourists; butas one of my principal Designs in this Paper is to beat down thatmalignant Spirit, which discovers it self in the Writings of the presentAge, I shall not scruple, for the future, to single out any of the smallWits, that infest the World with such Compositions as are ill-natured,immoral and absurd. This is the only Exception which I shall make to thegeneral Rule I have prescribed my self, of _attacking Multitudes_: Sinceevery honest Man ought to look upon himself as in a Natural State of Warwith the Libeller and Lampooner, and to annoy them where-ever they fallin his way. This is but retaliating upon them, and treating them as theytreat others.

C.

[Footnote 1: that]

[Footnote 2: Wit, in the town sense, is talked of to satiety inShadwell's plays; and window-breaking by the street rioters called'Scowrers,' who are the heroes of an entire play of his, named afterthem, is represented to the life by a street scene in the third act ofhis 'Woman Captain.']

[Footnote 3: are several Impostors]

[Footnote 4: take upon them]

[Footnote 5: Counterfeits]

[Footnote 6: any of these Pretenders]

[Footnote 7: that is about him]

* * * * *

No. 36. Wednesday, April 11, 1711. Steele.

'... Immania monstra Perferimus ...'

Virg.

I shall not put my self to any further Pains for this Day'sEntertainment, than barely to publish the Letters and Titles ofPetitions from the Play-house, with the Minutes I have made upon theLatter for my Conduct in relation to them.

Drury-Lane, April [1] the 9th.

'Upon reading the Project which is set forth in one of your late Papers, [2] of making an Alliance between all the Bulls, Bears, Elephants, and Lions, which are separately exposed to publick View in the Cities of _London_ and _Westminster_; together with the other Wonders, Shows, and Monsters, whereof you made respective Mention in the said Speculation; We, the chief Actors of this Playhouse, met and sat upon the said Design. It is with great Delight that We expect the Execution of this Work; and in order to contribute to it, We have given Warning to all our Ghosts to get their Livelihoods where they can, and not to appear among us after Day-break of the 16th Instant. We are resolved to take this Opportunity to part with every thing which does not contribute to the Representation of humane Life; and shall make a free Gift of all animated Utensils to your Projector. The Hangings you formerly mentioned are run away; as are likewise a Set of Chairs, each of which was met upon two Legs going through the _Rose_ Tavern at Two this Morning. We hope, Sir, you will give proper Notice to the Town that we are endeavouring at these Regulations; and that we intend for the future to show no Monsters, but Men who are converted into such by their own Industry and Affectation. If you will please to be at the House to-night, you will see me do my Endeavour to show some unnatural Appearances which are in vogue among the Polite and Well-bred. I am to represent, in the Character of a fine Lady Dancing, all the Distortions which are frequently taken for Graces in Mien and Gesture. This, Sir, is a Specimen of the Method we shall take to expose the Monsters which come within the Notice of a regular Theatre; and we desire nothing more gross may be admitted by you Spectators for the future. We have cashiered three Companies of Theatrical Guards, and design our Kings shall for the future make Love and sit in Council without an Army: and wait only your Direction, whether you will have them reinforce King _Porus_ or join the Troops of _Macedon_. Mr. _Penkethman_ resolves to consult his _Pantheon_ of Heathen Gods in Opposition to the Oracle of _Delphos_, and doubts not but he shall turn the Fortunes of _Porus_ when he personates him. I am desired by the Company to inform you, that they submit to your Censures; and shall have you in greater Veneration than _Hercules_ was in of old, if you can drive Monsters from the Theatre; and think your Merit will be as much greater than his, as to convince is more than to conquer.

I am, Sir, Your most obedient Servant, T.D.

SIR, When I acquaint you with the great and unexpected Vicissitudes of my Fortune, I doubt not but I shall obtain your Pity and Favour. I have for many Years last past been Thunderer to the Play-house; and have not only made as much Noise out of the Clouds as any Predecessor of mine in the Theatre that ever bore that Character, but also have descended and spoke on the Stage as the bold Thunder in _The Rehearsal_ [1]

When they got me down thus low, they thought fit to degrade me further, and make me a Ghost. I was contented with this for these two last Winters; but they carry their Tyranny still further, and not satisfied that I am banished from above Ground, they have given me to understand that I am wholly to depart their Dominions, and taken from me even my subterraneous Employment. Now, Sir, what I desire of you is, that if your Undertaker thinks fit to use Fire-Arms (as other Authors have done) in the Time of _Alexander_, I may be a Cannon against _Porus_, or else provide for me in the Burning of _Persepolis_, or what other Method you shall think fit.

Salmoneus of Covent-Garden.'

The Petition of all the Devils of the Play-house in behalf of themselvesand Families, setting forth their Expulsion from thence, withCertificates of their good Life and Conversation, and praying Relief.

_The Merit of this Petition referred to Mr._ Chr. Rich, _who made them Devils._

The Petition of the Grave-digger in 'Hamlet', to command the Pioneers inthe Expedition of _Alexander_.

_Granted._

The Petition of _William Bullock_, to be _Hephestion_ to _Penkethman theGreat_. [4]

_Granted._

* * * * *

The caricature here, and in following lines, is of a passage in Sir Robert Stapylton's 'Slighted Maid': 'I am the Evening, dark as Night,' &c.

In the 'Spectator's' time the Rehearsal was an acted play, in which Penkethman had the part of the gentleman Usher, and Bullock was one of the two Kings of Brentford; Thunder was Johnson, who played also the Grave-digger in Hamlet and other reputable parts.

* * * * *

[Footnote 1: 'March' was written by an oversight left in the first reprintuncorrected.]

[Footnote 2: No. 31.]

[Footnote 3: Mr. Bayes, the poet, in the Duke of Buckingham's'Rehearsal', after showing how he has planned a Thunder and LightningPrologue for his play, says,

Come out, Thunder and Lightning.

[Enter Thunder and Lightning.]

'Thun'. I am the bold 'Thunder'.

'Bayes'. Mr. Cartwright, prithee speak that a little louder, and with a hoarse voice. I am the bold Thunder: pshaw! Speak it me in a voice that thunders it out indeed: I am the bold 'Thunder'.

'Thun'. I am the bold 'Thunder'.

'Light'. The brisk Lightning, I.']

[Footnote 4: William Bullock was a good and popular comedian, whom somepreferred to Penkethman, because he spoke no more than was set down forhim, and did not overact his parts. He was now with Penkethman, now withCibber and others, joint-manager of a theatrical booth at BartholomewFair. When this essay was written Bullock and Penkethman were actingtogether in a play called 'Injured Love', produced at Drury Lane on the7th of April, Bullock as 'Sir Bookish Outside,' Penkethman as 'Tipple,'a Servant. Penkethman, Bullock and Dogget were in those days Macbeth'sthree witches. Bullock had a son on the stage capable of courtly parts,who really had played Hephestion in 'the Rival Queens', in a theatreopened by Penkethman at Greenwich in the preceding summer.]

* * * * *

ADVERTISEMENT.

_A Widow Gentlewoman, wellborn both by Father and Mother's Side, being the Daughter of_ Thomas Prater, _once an eminent Practitioner in the Law, and of_ Letitia Tattle, _a Family well known in all Parts of this Kingdom, having been reduc'd by Misfortunes to wait on several great Persons, and for some time to be Teacher at a Boarding-School of young Ladies; giveth Notice to the Publick, That she hath lately taken a House near_ Bloomsbury- Square, _commodiously situated next the Fields in a good Air; where she teaches all sorts of Birds of the loquacious Kinds, as Parrots, Starlings, Magpies, and others, to imitate human Voices in greater Perfection than ever yet was practis'd. They are not only instructed to pronounce Words distinctly, and in a proper Tone and Accent, but to speak the Language with great Purity and Volubility of Tongue, together with all the fashionable Phrases and Compliments now in use either at Tea-Tables or visiting Days. Those that have good Voices may be taught to sing the newest Opera-Airs, and, if requir'd, to speak either_ Italian _or_ French, _paying something extraordinary above the common Rates. They whose Friends are not able to pay the full Prices may be taken as Half-boarders. She teaches such as are design'd for the Diversion of the Publick, and to act in enchanted Woods on the Theatres, by the Great. As she has often observ'd with much Concern how indecent an Education is usually given these innocent Creatures, which in some Measure is owing to their being plac'd in Rooms next the Street, where, to the great Offence of chaste and tender Ears, they learn Ribaldry, obscene Songs, and immodest Expressions from Passengers and idle People, and also to cry Fish and Card-matches, with other useless Parts of Learning to Birds who have rich Friends, she has fitted up proper and neat Apartments for them in the back Part of her said House; where she suffers none to approach them but her self, and a Servant Maid who is deaf and dumb, and whom she provided on purpose to prepare their Food and cleanse their Cages; having found by long Experience how hard a thing it is for those to keep Silence who have the Use of Speech, and the Dangers her Scholars are expos'd to by the strong Impressions that are made by harsh Sounds and vulgar Dialects. In short, if they are Birds of any Parts or Capacity, she will undertake to render them so accomplish'd in the Compass of a Twelve-month, that they shall be fit Conversation for such Ladies as love to chuse their Friends and Companions out of this Species_.

R.

* * * * *

No. 37. Thursday, April 12, 1711. Addison.

... Non illa colo calathisve Minervae Foemineas assueta manus ...

Virg.

Some Months ago, my Friend Sir Roger, being in the Country, enclosed aLetter to me, directed to a certain Lady whom I shall here call by theName of _Leonora_, and as it contained Matters of Consequence, desiredme to deliver it to her with my own Hand. Accordingly I waited upon herLadyship pretty early in the Morning, and was desired by her Woman towalk into her Lady's Library, till such time as she was in a Readinessto receive me. The very Sound of a _Lady's Library_ gave me a greatCuriosity to see it; and as it was some time before the Lady came to me,I had an Opportunity of turning over a great many of her Books, whichwere ranged together in a very beautiful Order. At the End of the_Folios_ (which were finely bound and gilt) were great Jars of _China_placed one above another in a very noble Piece of Architecture. The_Quartos_ were separated from the _Octavos_ by a Pile of smallerVessels, which rose in a [delightful[1]] Pyramid. The _Octavos_ werebounded by Tea Dishes of all Shapes Colours and Sizes, which were sodisposed on a wooden Frame, that they looked like one continued Pillarindented with the finest Strokes of Sculpture, and stained with thegreatest Variety of Dyes. That Part of the Library which was designedfor the Reception of Plays and Pamphlets, and other loose Papers, wasenclosed in a kind of Square, consisting of one of the prettiestGrotesque Works that ever I saw, and made up of Scaramouches, Lions,Monkies, Mandarines, Trees, Shells, and a thousand other odd Figures in_China_ Ware. In the midst of the Room was a little Japan Table, with aQuire of gilt Paper upon it, and on the Paper a Silver Snuff-box made inthe Shape of a little Book. I found there were several other CounterfeitBooks upon the upper Shelves, which were carved in Wood, and served onlyto fill up the Number, like Fagots in the muster of a Regiment. I waswonderfully pleased with such a mixt kind of Furniture, as seemed verysuitable both to the Lady and the Scholar, and did not know at firstwhether I should fancy my self in a Grotto, or in a Library.

Upon my looking into the Books, I found there were some few which theLady had bought for her own use, but that most of them had been gottogether, either because she had heard them praised, or because she hadseen the Authors of them. Among several that I examin'd, I very wellremember these that follow. [2]

_Ogleby's Virgil_. _Dryden's Juvenal_. _Cassandra_. _Cleopatra_. _Astraea_. _Sir Isaac Newton's_ Works. The _Grand Cyrus:_ With a Pin stuck in one of the middle Leaves. _Pembroke's Arcadia_. _Locke_ of Human Understanding: With a Paper of Patches in it. A Spelling-Book. A Dictionary for the Explanation of hard Words. _Sherlock_ upon Death. The fifteen Comforts of Matrimony. Sir _William Temptle's_ Essays. Father _Malbranche's_ Search after Truth, translated into _English_. A Book of Novels. The Academy of Compliments. _Culpepper's_ Midwifry. The Ladies Calling. Tales in Verse by Mr. _Durfey_: Bound in Red Leather, gilt on the Back, and doubled down in several Places. All the Classick Authors in Wood. A set of _Elzevers_ by the same Hand. _Clelia_: Which opened of it self in the Place that describes two Lovers in a Bower. _Baker's_ Chronicle. Advice to a Daughter. The New _Atalantis_, with a Key to it. Mr. _Steel's_ Christian Heroe. A Prayer Book: With a Bottle of _Hungary_ Water by the side of it. Dr. _Sacheverell's_ Speech. _Fielding's_ Tryal. _Seneca's_ Morals. _Taylor's_ holy Living and Dying. _La ferte's_ Instructions for Country Dances.

I was taking a Catalogue in my Pocket-Book of these, and several otherAuthors, when _Leonora_ entred, and upon my presenting her with theLetter from the Knight, told me, with an unspeakable Grace, that shehoped Sir ROGER was in good Health: I answered _Yes_, for I hate longSpeeches, and after a Bow or two retired.

_Leonora_ was formerly a celebrated Beauty, and is still a very lovelyWoman. She has been a Widow for two or three Years, and beingunfortunate in her first Marriage, has taken a Resolution never toventure upon a second. She has no Children to take care of, and leavesthe Management of her Estate to my good Friend Sir ROGER. But as theMind naturally sinks into a kind of Lethargy, and falls asleep, that isnot agitated by some Favourite Pleasures and Pursuits, _Leonora_ hasturned all the Passions of her Sex into a Love of Books and Retirement.She converses chiefly with Men (as she has often said herself), but itis only in their Writings; and admits of very few Male-Visitants,except my Friend Sir ROGER, whom she hears with great Pleasure, andwithout Scandal. As her Reading has lain very much among Romances, ithas given her a very particular Turn of Thinking, and discovers it selfeven in her House, her Gardens, and her Furniture. Sir ROGER hasentertained me an Hour together with a Description of her Country-Seat,which is situated in a kind of Wilderness, about an hundred Milesdistant from _London_, and looks like a little Enchanted Palace. TheRocks about her are shaped into Artificial Grottoes covered withWood-Bines and Jessamines. The Woods are cut into shady Walks, twistedinto Bowers, and filled with Cages of Turtles. The Springs are made torun among Pebbles, and by that means taught to Murmur very agreeably.They are likewise collected into a Beatiful Lake that is Inhabited by aCouple of Swans, and empties it self by a litte Rivulet which runsthrough a Green Meadow, and is known in the Family by the Name of _ThePurling Stream_. The Knight likewise tells me, that this Lady preservesher Game better than any of the Gentlemen in the Country, not (says SirROGER) that she sets so great a Value upon her Partridges and Pheasants,as upon her Larks and Nightingales. For she says that every Bird whichis killed in her Ground, will spoil a Consort, and that she shallcertainly miss him the next Year.

When I think how odly this Lady is improved by Learning, I look upon herwith a Mixture of Admiration and Pity. Amidst these InnocentEntertainments which she has formed to her self, how much more Valuabledoes she appear than those of her Sex, [who [3]] employ themselves inDiversions that are less Reasonable, tho' more in Fashion? WhatImprovements would a Woman have made, who is so Susceptible ofImpressions from what she reads, had she been guided to such Books ashave a Tendency to enlighten the Understanding and rectify the Passions,as well as to those which are of little more use than to divert theImagination?

But the manner of a Lady's Employing her self usefully in Reading shallbe the Subject of another Paper, in which I design to recommend suchparticular Books as may be proper for the Improvement of the Sex. And asthis is a Subject of a very nice Nature, I shall desire myCorrespondents to give me their Thoughts upon it.

C.

[Footnote 1: very delightful]

[Footnote 2: John Ogilby, or Ogilvy, who died in 1676, aged 76, wasoriginally a dancing-master, then Deputy Master of the Revels in Dublin;then, after the outbreak of the Irish Rebellion, a student of Latin andGreek in Cambridge. Finally, he settled down as a cosmographer. Heproduced translations of both Virgil and Homer into English verse. His'Virgil', published in 1649, was handsomely printed and the first whichgave the entire works in English, nearly half a century before Dryden'swhich appeared in 1697.

The translation of 'Juvenal' and 'Persius' by Dryden, with help of histwo sons, and of Congreve, Creech, Tate, and others, was first publishedin 1693. Dryden translated Satires 1, 3, 6, 10, and 16 of Juvenal, andthe whole of Persius. His Essay on Satire was prefixed.

'Cassandra' and 'Cleopatra' were romances from the French of Gautier deCostes, Seigneur de la Calprenede, who died in 1663. He published'Cassandra' in 10 volumes in 1642, 'Cleopatra' in 12 volumes in 1656,besides other romances. The custom was to publish these romances avolume at a time. A pretty and rich widow smitten with the 'Cleopatra'while it was appearing, married La Calprenede upon condition that hefinished it, and his promise to do so was formally inserted in themarriage contract. The English translations of these French Romanceswere always in folio. 'Cassandra', translated by Sir Charles Cotterell,was published in 1652; 'Cleopatra' in 1668, translated by RobertLoveday. 'Astraea' was a pastoral Romance of the days of Henri IV. byHonore D'Urfe, which had been translated by John Pyper in 1620, and wasagain translated by a Person 'of Quality' in 1657. It was of the sameschool as Sir Philip Sydney's 'Arcadia', first published after his deathby his sister Mary, Countess of Pembroke, in 1590, and from her, forwhom, indeed, it had been written, called the Countess of Pembroke'sArcadia.

Sir Isaac Newton was living in the 'Spectator's' time. He died in 1727,aged 85. John Locke had died in 1704. His 'Essay on the HumanUnderstanding' was first published in 1690. Sir William Temple had diedin 1699, aged 71.

The 'Grand Cyrus', by Magdeleine de Scuderi, was the most famous of theFrench Romances of its day. The authoress, who died in 1701, aged 94,was called the Sappho of her time. Cardinal Mazarin left her a pensionby his will, and she had a pension of two thousand livres from the king.Her 'Grand Cyrus', published in 10 volumes in 1650, was translated (inone volume, folio) in 1653. 'Clelia', presently afterwards included inthe list of Leonora's books, was another very popular romance by thesame authoress, published in 10 volumes, a few years later, immediatelytranslated into English by John Davies, and printed in the usual folioform.

Dr. William Sherlock, who after some scruple about taking the oaths toKing William, did so, and was made Dean of St. Paul's, published hisvery popular 'Practical Discourse concerning Death', in 1689. He died in1707.

Father Nicolas Malebranche, in the 'Spectator's' time, was living inenjoyment of his reputation as one of the best French writers andphilosophers. The foundations of his fame had been laid by his'Recherche de la Verite', of which the first volume appeared in 1673. AnEnglish translation of it, by Thomas Taylor, was published (in folio) in1694. He died in 1715, Aged 77.

Thomas D'Urfey was a licentious writer of plays and songs, whose tunesCharles II. would hum as he leant on their writer's shoulder. His 'NewPoems, with Songs' appeared in 1690. He died in 1723, aged 95.

The 'New Atalantis' was a scandalous book by Mary de la Riviere Manley,a daughter of Sir Roger Manley, governor of Guernsey. She began hercareer as the victim of a false marriage, deserted and left to supportherself; became a busy writer and a woman of intrigue, who was living inthe 'Spectator's' time, and died in 1724, in the house of AldermanBarber, with whom she was then living. Her 'New Atalantis', published in1709, was entitled 'Secret Memoirs and Manners of several Persons ofQuality of both sexes, from the New Atalantis, an Island in theMediterranean.' Under feigned names it especially attacked members ofWhig families, and led to proceedings for libel.

La Ferte was a dancing master of the days of the 'Spectator', who inNos. 52 and 54 advertised his School

'in Compton Street, Soho, over against St. Ann's Church Back-door,' adding that, 'at the desire of several gentlemen in the City,' he taught dancing on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the neighhourhood of the Royal Exchange.]

[Footnote 3: that]

* * * * *

No. 38. Friday, April 13, 1711. Steele.

'Cupias non placuisse nimis.'

Mart.

A Late Conversation which I fell into, gave me an Opportunity ofobserving a great deal of Beauty in a very handsome Woman, and as muchWit in an ingenious Man, turned into Deformity in the one, and Absurdityin the other, by the meer Force of Affectation. The Fair One hadsomething in her Person upon which her Thoughts were fixed, that sheattempted to shew to Advantage in every Look, Word, and Gesture. TheGentleman was as diligent to do Justice to his fine Parts, as the Ladyto her beauteous Form: You might see his Imagination on the Stretch tofind out something uncommon, and what they call bright, to entertainher; while she writhed her self into as many different Postures toengage him. When she laughed, her Lips were to sever at a greaterDistance than ordinary to shew her Teeth: Her Fan was to point tosomewhat at a Distance, that in the Reach she may discover the Roundnessof her Arm; then she is utterly mistaken in what she saw, falls back,smiles at her own Folly, and is so wholly discomposed, that her Tuckeris to be adjusted, her Bosom exposed, and the whole Woman put into newAirs and Graces. While she was doing all this, the Gallant had Time tothink of something very pleasant to say next to her, or make some unkindObservation on some other Lady to feed her Vanity. These unhappy Effectsof Affectation, naturally led me to look into that strange State of Mindwhich so generally discolours the Behaviour of most People we meet with.

The learned Dr. _Burnet_, [1] in his Theory of the Earth, takes Occasionto observe, That every Thought is attended with Consciousness andRepresentativeness; the Mind has nothing presented to it but what isimmediately followed by a Reflection or Conscience, which tells youwhether that which was so presented is graceful or unbecoming. This Actof the Mind discovers it self in the Gesture, by a proper Behaviour inthose whose Consciousness goes no further than to direct them in thejust Progress of their present Thought or Action; but betrays anInterruption in every second Thought, when the Consciousness is employedin too fondly approving a Man's own Conceptions; which sort ofConsciousness is what we call Affectation.

As the Love of Praise is implanted in our Bosoms as a strong Incentiveto worthy Actions, it is a very difficult Task to get above a Desire ofit for things that should be wholly indifferent. Women, whose Hearts arefixed upon the Pleasure they have in the Consciousness that they are theObjects of Love and Admiration, are ever changing the Air of theirCountenances, and altering the Attitude of their Bodies, to strike theHearts of their Beholders with new Sense of their Beauty. The dressingPart of our Sex, whose Minds are the same with the sillyer Part of theother, are exactly in the like uneasy Condition to be regarded for awell-tied Cravat, an Hat cocked with an unusual Briskness, a verywell-chosen Coat, or other Instances of Merit, which they are impatientto see unobserved.

But this apparent Affectation, arising from an ill-governedConsciousness, is not so much to be wonder'd at in such loose andtrivial Minds as these: But when you see it reign in Characters of Worthand Distinction, it is what you cannot but lament, not without someIndignation. It creeps into the Heart of the wise Man, as well as thatof the Coxcomb. When you see a Man of Sense look about for Applause, anddiscover an itching Inclination to be commended; lay Traps for a littleIncense, even from those whose Opinion he values in nothing but his ownFavour; Who is safe against this Weakness? or who knows whether he isguilty of it or not? The best Way to get clear of such a light Fondnessfor Applause, is to take all possible Care to throw off the Love of itupon Occasions that are not in themselves laudable; but, as it appears,we hope for no Praise from them. Of this Nature are all Graces in MensPersons, Dress and bodily Deportment; which will naturally be winningand attractive if we think not of them, but lose their Force inproportion to our Endeavour to make them such.

When our Consciousness turns upon the main Design of Life, and ourThoughts are employed upon the chief Purpose either in Business orPleasure, we shall never betray an Affectation, for we cannot be guiltyof it: But when we give the Passion for Praise an unbridled Liberty, ourPleasure in little Perfections, robs us of what is due to us for greatVirtues and worthy Qualities. How many excellent Speeches and honestActions are lost, for want of being indifferent where we ought? Men areoppressed with regard to their Way of speaking and acting; instead ofhaving their Thought bent upon what they should do or say, and by thatMeans bury a Capacity for great things, by their fear of failing inindifferent things. This, perhaps, cannot be called Affectation; but ithas some Tincture of it, at least so far, as that their Fear of erringin a thing of no Consequence, argues they would be too much pleased inperforming it.

It is only from a thorough Disregard to himself in such Particulars,that a Man can act with a laudable Sufficiency: His Heart is fixed uponone Point in view; and he commits no Errors, because he thinks nothingan Error but what deviates from that Intention.

The wild Havock Affectation makes in that Part of the World which shouldbe most polite, is visible where ever we turn our Eyes: It pushes Mennot only into Impertinencies in Conversation, but also in theirpremeditated Speeches. At the Bar it torments the Bench, whose Businessit is to cut off all Superfluities in what is spoken before it by thePractitioner; as well as several little Pieces of Injustice which arisefrom the Law it self. I have seen it make a Man run from the Purposebefore a Judge, who was, when at the Bar himself, so close and logical aPleader, that with all the Pomp of Eloquence in his Power, he neverspoke a Word too much. [2]

It might be born even here, but it often ascends the Pulpit it self; andthe Declaimer, in that sacred Place, is frequently so impertinentlywitty, speaks of the last Day it self with so many quaint Phrases, thatthere is no Man who understands Raillery, but must resolve to sin nomore: Nay, you may behold him sometimes in Prayer for a proper Deliveryof the great Truths he is to utter, humble himself with so very wellturned Phrase, and mention his own Unworthiness in a Way so verybecoming, that the Air of the pretty Gentleman is preserved, under theLowliness of the Preacher.

I shall end this with a short Letter I writ the other Day to a verywitty Man, over-run with the Fault I am speaking of.

Dear SIR,

'I Spent some Time with you the other Day, and must take the Liberty of a Friend to tell you of the unsufferable Affectation you are guilty of in all you say and do. When I gave you an Hint of it, you asked me whether a Man is to be cold to what his Friends think of him? No; but Praise is not to be the Entertainment of every Moment: He that hopes for it must be able to suspend the Possession of it till proper Periods of Life, or Death it self. If you would not rather be commended than be Praiseworthy, contemn little Merits; and allow no Man to be so free with you, as to praise you to your Face. Your Vanity by this Means will want its Food. At the same time your Passion for Esteem will be more fully gratified; Men will praise you in their Actions: Where you now receive one Compliment, you will then receive twenty Civilities. Till then you will never have of either, further than

SIR,

Your humble Servant.'

R.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Thomas Burnet, who produced in 1681 the 'TellurisTheoria Sacra,' translated in 1690 as 'the Sacred Theory of the Earth,'was living in the 'Spectator's' time. He died in 1715, aged 80. He wasfor 30 years Master of the Charter-house, and set himself against JamesII. in refusing to admit a Roman Catholic as a Poor Brother. Burnet'sTheory, a romance that passed for science in its day, was opposed in1696 by Whiston in his 'New Theory of the Earth' (one all for Fire, theother all for Water), and the new Romance was Science even in the eyesof Locke. Addison, from Oxford in 1699, addressed a Latin ode to Burnet.]

[Footnote 2: Lord Cowper.]

* * * * *

No. 39. Saturday, April 14, 1711. Addison.

'Multa fero, ut placem genus irritabile vatum, Cum scribo.'

Hor.

As a perfect Tragedy is the Noblest Production of Human Nature, so it iscapable of giving the Mind one of the most delightful and most improvingEntertainments. A virtuous Man (says _Seneca_) struggling withMisfortunes, is such a Spectacle as Gods might look upon with Pleasure:[1] And such a Pleasure it is which one meets with in the Representationof a well-written Tragedy. Diversions of this kind wear out of ourThoughts every thing that is mean and little. They cherish and cultivatethat Humanity which is the Ornament of our Nature. They softenInsolence, sooth Affliction, and subdue the Mind to the Dispensations ofProvidence.

It is no Wonder therefore that in all the polite Nations of the World,this part of the _Drama_ has met with publick Encouragement.

The modern Tragedy excels that of _Greece_ and _Rome_, in the Intricacyand Disposition of the Fable; but, what a Christian Writer would beashamed to own, falls infinitely short of it in the Moral Part of thePerformance.

This I [may [2]] shew more at large hereafter; and in the mean time,that I may contribute something towards the Improvement of the _English_Tragedy, I shall take notice, in this and in other following Papers, ofsome particular Parts in it that seem liable to Exception.

_Aristotle_ [3] observes, that the _Iambick_ Verse in the _Greek_ Tonguewas the most proper for Tragedy: Because at the same time that it liftedup the Discourse from Prose, it was that which approached nearer to itthan any other kind of Verse. For, says he, we may observe that Men inOrdinary Discourse very often speak _Iambicks_, without taking notice ofit. We may make the same Observation of our _English_ Blank Verse, whichoften enters into our Common Discourse, though we do not attend to it,and is such a due Medium between Rhyme and Prose, that it seemswonderfully adapted to Tragedy. I am therefore very much offended when Isee a Play in Rhyme, which is as absurd in _English_, as a Tragedy of_Hexameters_ would have been in _Greek_ or _Latin_. The Solaecism is, Ithink, still greater, in those Plays that have some Scenes in Rhyme andsome in Blank Verse, which are to be looked upon as two severalLanguages; or where we see some particular Similies dignifyed withRhyme, at the same time that everything about them lyes in Blank Verse.I would not however debar the Poet from concluding his Tragedy, or, ifhe pleases, every Act of it, with two or three Couplets, which may havethe same Effect as an Air in the _Italian_ Opera after a long_Recitativo_, and give the Actor a graceful _Exit_. Besides that we seea Diversity of Numbers in some Parts of the Old Tragedy, in order tohinder the Ear from being tired with the same continued Modulation ofVoice. For the same Reason I do not dislike the Speeches in our_English_ Tragedy that close with an _Hemistick_, or half Verse,notwithstanding the Person who speaks after it begins a new Verse,without filling up the preceding one; Nor with abrupt Pauses andBreakings-off in the middle of a Verse, when they humour any Passionthat is expressed by it.

Since I am upon this Subject, I must observe that our _English_ Poetshave succeeded much better in the Style, than in the Sentiments of theirTragedies. Their Language is very often Noble and Sonorous, but theSense either very trifling or very common. On the contrary, in theAncient Tragedies, and indeed in those of _Corneille_ and _Racine_ [4]tho' the Expressions are very great, it is the Thought that bears themup and swells them. For my own part, I prefer a noble Sentiment that isdepressed with homely Language, infinitely before a vulgar one that isblown up with all the Sound and Energy of Expression. Whether thisDefect in our Tragedies may arise from Want of Genius, Knowledge, orExperience in the Writers, or from their Compliance with the viciousTaste of their Readers, who are better Judges of the Language than ofthe Sentiments, and consequently relish the one more than the other, Icannot determine. But I believe it might rectify the Conduct both of theone and of the other, if the Writer laid down the whole Contexture ofhis Dialogue in plain _English_, before he turned it into Blank Verse;and if the Reader, after the Perusal of a Scene, would consider thenaked Thought of every Speech in it, when divested of all its TragickOrnaments. By this means, without being imposed upon by Words, we mayjudge impartially of the Thought, and consider whether it be natural orgreat enough for the Person that utters it, whether it deserves to shinein such a Blaze of Eloquence, or shew itself in such a Variety of Lightsas are generally made use of by the Writers of our _English_ Tragedy.

I must in the next place observe, that when our Thoughts are great andjust, they are often obscured by the sounding Phrases, hard Metaphors,and forced Expressions in which they are cloathed. _Shakespear_ is oftenvery Faulty in this Particular. There is a fine Observation in_Aristotle_ to this purpose, which I have never seen quoted. TheExpression, says he, ought to be very much laboured in the unactiveParts of the Fable, as in Descriptions, Similitudes, Narrations, and thelike; in which the Opinions, Manners and Passions of Men are notrepresented; for these (namely the Opinions, Manners and Passions) areapt to be obscured by Pompous Phrases, and Elaborate Expressions. [5]_Horace_, who copied most of his Criticisms after _Aristotle_, seems tohave had his Eye on the foregoing Rule in the following Verses:

Tragedians too lay by their State, to grieve_. Peleus _and_ Telephus, _Exit'd and Poor, Forget their Swelling and Gigantick Words.

(Ld. ROSCOMMON.)

Among our Modern _English_ Poets, there is none who was better turnedfor Tragedy than _Lee_; [6] if instead of favouring the Impetuosity ofhis Genius, he had restrained it, and kept it within its proper Bounds.His Thoughts are wonderfully suited to Tragedy, but frequently lost insuch a Cloud of Words, that it is hard to see the Beauty of them: Thereis an infinite Fire in his Works, but so involved in Smoak, that it doesnot appear in half its Lustre. He frequently succeeds in the PassionateParts of the Tragedy, but more particularly where he slackens hisEfforts, and eases the Style of those Epithets and Metaphors, in whichhe so much abounds. What can be more Natural, more Soft, or morePassionate, than that Line in _Statira's_ Speech, where she describesthe Charms of _Alexander's_ Conversation?

_Then he would talk: Good Gods! how he would talk!_

That unexpected Break in the Line, and turning the Description of hisManner of Talking into an Admiration of it, is inexpressibly Beautiful,and wonderfully suited, to the fond Character of the Person that speaksit. There is a Simplicity in the Words, that outshines the utmost Prideof Expression.

_Otway_ [7] has followed Nature in the Language of his Tragedy, andtherefore shines in the Passionate Parts, more than any of our _English_Poets. As there is something Familiar and Domestick in the Fable of hisTragedy, more than in those of any other Poet, he has little Pomp, butgreat Force in his Expressions. For which Reason, though he hasadmirably succeeded in the tender and melting Part of his Tragedies, hesometimes falls into too great a Familiarity of Phrase in those Parts,which, by _Aristotle's_ Rule, ought to have been raised and supported bythe Dignity of Expression.

It has been observed by others, that this Poet has founded his Tragedyof _Venice Preserved_ on so wrong a Plot, that the greatest Charactersin it are those of Rebels and Traitors. Had the Hero of his Playdiscovered the same good Qualities in the Defence of his Country, thathe showed for its Ruin and Subversion, the Audience could not enoughpity and admire him: But as he is now represented, we can only say ofhim what the _Roman_ Historian says of _Catiline_, that his Fall wouldhave been Glorious (_si pro Patria sic concidisset_) had he so fallen inthe Service of his Country.

[Footnote 4: These chiefs of the French tragic drama died, Corneille in1684, and his brother Thomas in 1708; Racine in 1699.]

[Footnote 5: It is the last sentence in Part III. of the 'Poetics'.]

[Footnote 6: Nathaniel Lee died in 1692 of injury received during adrunken frolic. Disappointed of a fellowship at Cambridge, he turnedactor; failed upon the stage, but prospered as a writer for it. Hiscareer as a dramatist began with 'Nero', in 1675, and he wrote in alleleven plays. His most successful play was the 'Rival Queens', or theDeath of Alexander the Great, produced in 1677. Next to it in success,and superior in merit, was his 'Theodosius', or the Force of Love,produced in 1680. He took part with Dryden in writing the verysuccessful adaptation of 'OEdipus', produced in 1679, as an EnglishTragedy based upon Sophocles and Seneca. During two years of his lifeLee was a lunatic in Bedlam.]

[Footnote 7: Thomas Otway died of want in 1685, at the age of 34. LikeLee, he left college for the stage, attempted as an actor, then turneddramatist, and produced his first tragedy, 'Alcibiades', in 1675, theyear in which Lee produced also his first tragedy, 'Nero'. Otway'ssecond play, 'Don Carlos', was very successful, but his best were, the'Orphan', produced in 1680, remarkable for its departure from the kingsand queens of tragedy for pathos founded upon incidents in middle life,and 'Venice Preserved', produced in 1682.]

The _English_ Writers of Tragedy are possessed with a Notion, that whenthey represent a virtuous or innocent Person in Distress, they ought notto leave him till they have delivered him out of his Troubles, or madehim triumph over his Enemies. This Error they have been led into by aridiculous Doctrine in modern Criticism, that they are obliged to anequal Distribution of Rewards and Punishments, and an impartialExecution of poetical Justice. Who were the first that established thisRule I know not; but I am sure it has no Foundation in Nature, inReason, or in the Practice of the Ancients. We find that Good and Evilhappen alike to all Men on this side the Grave; and as the principalDesign of Tragedy is to raise Commiseration and Terror in the Minds ofthe Audience, we shall defeat this great End, if we always make Virtueand Innocence happy and successful. Whatever Crosses and Disappointmentsa good Man suffers in the Body of the Tragedy, they will make but smallImpression on our Minds, when we know that in the last Act he is toarrive at the End of his Wishes and Desires. When we see him engaged inthe Depth of his Afflictions, we are apt to comfort our selves, becausewe are sure he will find his Way out of them: and that his Grief, howgreat soever it may be at present, will soon terminate in Gladness. Forthis Reason the ancient Writers of Tragedy treated Men in their Plays,as they are dealt with in the World, by making Virtue sometimes happyand sometimes miserable, as they found it in the Fable which they madechoice of, or as it might affect their Audience in the most agreeableManner. _Aristotle_ considers the Tragedies that were written in eitherof these Kinds, and observes, That those which ended unhappily hadalways pleased the People, and carried away the Prize in the publickDisputes of the Stage, from those that ended happily. [1] Terror andCommiseration leave a pleasing Anguish in the Mind; and fix the Audiencein such a serious Composure of Thought as is much more lasting anddelightful than any little transient Starts of Joy and Satisfaction.Accordingly, we find, that more of our English Tragedies have succeeded,in which the Favourites of the Audience sink under their Calamities,than those in which they recover themselves out of them. The best Playsof this Kind are 'The Orphan', 'Venice Preserved', 'Alexander theGreat', 'Theodosius', 'All for Love', 'OEdipus', 'Oroonoko', 'Othello',[2] &c. 'King Lear' is an admirable Tragedy of the same Kind, as'Shakespear' wrote it; but as it is reformed according to the chymericalNotion of Poetical Justice, in my humble Opinion it has lost half itsBeauty. At the same time I must allow, that there are very nobleTragedies which have been framed upon the other Plan, and have endedhappily; as indeed most of the good Tragedies, which have been writtensince the starting of the above-mentioned Criticism, have taken thisTurn: As 'The Mourning Bride', 'Tamerlane', 'Ulysses', 'Phaedra' and'Hippolitus', with most of Mr. _Dryden's_. [3] I must also allow, thatmany of _Shakespear's_, and several of the celebrated Tragedies ofAntiquity, are cast in the same Form. I do not therefore dispute againstthis Way of writing Tragedies, but against the Criticism that wouldestablish this as the only Method; and by that Means would very muchcramp the _English_ Tragedy, and perhaps give a wrong Bent to the Geniusof our Writers.

The Tragi-Comedy, which is the Product of the _English_ Theatre, is oneof the most monstrous Inventions that ever entered into a Poet'sThoughts. An Author might as well think of weaving the Adventures of_AEneas_ and _Hudibras_ into one Poem, as of writing such a motly Pieceof Mirth and Sorrow. But the Absurdity of these Performances is so veryvisible, that I shall not insist upon it.

The same Objections which are made to Tragi-Comedy, may in some Measurebe applied to all Tragedies that have a double Plot in them; which arelikewise more frequent upon the _English_ Stage, than upon any other:For though the Grief of the Audience, in such Performances, be notchanged into another Passion, as in Tragi-Comedies; it is diverted uponanother Object, which weakens their Concern for the principal Action,and breaks the Tide of Sorrow, by throwing it into different Channels.This Inconvenience, however, may in a great Measure be cured, if notwholly removed, by the skilful Choice of an Under-Plot, which may bearsuch a near Relation to the principal Design, as to contribute towardsthe Completion of it, and be concluded by the same Catastrophe.

There is also another Particular, which may be reckoned among theBlemishes, or rather the false Beauties, of our _English_ Tragedy: Imean those particular Speeches, which are commonly known by the Name of_Rants_. The warm and passionate Parts of a Tragedy, are always the mosttaking with the Audience; for which Reason we often see the Playerspronouncing, in all the Violence of Action, several Parts of the Tragedywhich the Author writ with great Temper, and designed that they shouldhave been so acted. I have seen _Powell_ very often raise himself a loudClap by this Artifice. The Poets that were acquainted with this Secret,